


Garry

by BoomButterflyEffect



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Garry's POV, Minor Original Character(s), Scary Elements, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6726829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoomButterflyEffect/pseuds/BoomButterflyEffect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people know the story of Ib, a young, curious girl who is pulled into the dark and sinister word of a famous artist, Guertena. Many people even know the story of Mary. But not many people know the backstory of Garry, the young man who will protect Ib at all costs, even if it means sacrificing himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hanged Man

“The Hanged Man”

What a creative name for it, I think sarcastically to myself as I look at the painting in front of me. One of the things that bothers me the most is when artists name their works after what the painting literally is: in this case, the man hanging upside down by a rope is called “The Hanged Man.” At least be more creative with it. You’re an artist, for goodness’ sake. Creativity is your job.

But although his creativity for names leaves something to be desired, Guertena is possibly one of the most amazing yet underrated artists of our time. That’s why I didn't hesitate when I heard that the local art gallery was putting his most famous work on display. A whole exhibit dedicated to Guertena, what better way to spend my afternoon?

As I’m looking closely at the hanging man, noticing some numbers on his clothes, I notice a little girl in a red skirt walking around out of the corner of my eye. She’s so small and young—maybe only eight or nine. What is she doing moving about alone?

But, it’s an art gallery. I’m sure nothing bad could happen to her.

By now, I’ve grown tired of the painting and I find something else to look at. I head downstairs, past the lobby, and find a large sculpture of a rose. The paragraph on the wall calls it “Embodiment of Spirit” and mentions something about the rose being linked to the beholder. Sounds interesting to me. Almost like the rose is somebody’s lifeline.

As I look closer at the rose sculpture, deciding to come back to it later on, the lights begin to flicker. I glance around, frowning, suddenly realizing how quiet it’s become. And that’s when I notice how I’m completely alone. Nobody is around me anymore, but how can that be when there were just so many other people in the room?

Uncertain and uncomfortable, I go upstairs and sure enough, there’s nobody around. The lights stop flickering for a moment and instead turn off altogether, earning a loud gasp from me. Okay, so maybe I’m not the biggest fan of the dark. No judgment, please. I understand I’m a legal adult, but I’m still young and the dark can be terrifying.

Stuffing my hands nervously in my pockets, I feel something small and smooth and remember that I always carry a lighter with me. Relieved, I pull it out and light a flame, turning around to see the room I’m in better. And then I’m face-to- face with one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever seen.

One of Guertena’s tall headless statues, which had been enclosed behind velvet rope only minutes ago, is now right in front of me, arms extended. I back away, hoping to calm it down, but it only growls at me. So I do what any sane person would do: I run.

The lights turn back on but keep flickering as I run into the lobby and try to leave out the front door. No use: it’s locked. And where has everyone gone off to? I shake my head to dispose of any more questions that could distract me, and I hear the growling once again. The headless statue is still after me.

So instead, I run around downstairs through different rooms and exhibits, praying that nothing else comes alive to hurt me. I find one hall with a large mural entitled “Fabricated World.” I stop in front of it to catch my breath—maybe I’m not the most in-shape guy on the planet, either—and hear a sound much like clanking from above me. Nervously, I look up and find magnets sticking to the wall around the mural, spelling out my name and other various messages:

“Garry. Come in, Garry. Follow.”

“Yeah, no thank you!” I call out, hoping this is all some sort of joke or prank and that it’ll be over soon. All I want right now is to go back home. I want the lights to stay on and the front door to unlock. I want to lie in my bed and eat macaroons while creating some new drawings in my sketchbook. I just want to go back to the normal world where everybody makes fun of my purple hair.

The gallery has grown quiet again, and hesitantly I move around upstairs. Nothing else seems to have come alive—except there is one window that looks like somebody has been banging on it. I hear coughing somewhere as well, but can’t place the source of it. I come across a huge painting—or maybe it’s a mural, too—on the floor in one of the rooms. In all honesty, I can’t be bothered to notice what it is or what it’s named—something “of the Deep,” I’m sure. The only thing that concerns me is that, like with the headless statue, part of the velvet rope surrounding it is now open. So I stand where it once was, peering down at the giant painted fish, and suddenly I’m falling into darkness.


	2. Fabricated World

When I finally awake, I find myself in the middle of a dark hallway. There are stairs in front of me, or I can go left or right. After collecting my thoughts and taking much-needed deep breaths, I decide to go left and follow the red painting on the wall, deciding to come back to the stairs.

Sure enough, there is a door at the end of this hall. But it’s locked, and nothing I do will make it open. I sigh and head back to the room where I woke up. Upon my return, I notice something unusual and concerning and highly frightening, at that. The stairs… 

The stairs are gone. Where they once were, there is only thick wall. I knock a few times on the wall, deciding maybe it could be hollow and something could trigger a secret passageway. But the wall sounds perfectly fine, so my knocks turn into punches. “No!” I whisper harshly. “No, no, no! Let me out of here!”

There is a response to my outbursts: a quiet giggle from below. I look next to me, and on the floor is a little black rag doll. It seems to look right at me, but doesn’t move. There is, however, writing on the wall above it. So I lean closer to the wall, carefully—not the biggest fan of dolls, either—to read the message.

“Nice hair, Garry.”

I try to be calm about the doll’s message. First of all, how the heck does it know my name? But the message also reminds me of someone: my little sister Gina, who died a couple of years back. I decided to dye my hair purple on my sixteenth birthday, and everyone was none too thrilled about it. But my sweet little sister had just smiled up at me and said, with complete honesty, “I like your hair now, Garry.”

But the doll’s message seems like a mockery of this memory. I immediately find myself plagued with thoughts of Gina. We used to make macaroons together—oh, how much she had made me love them. And our parents weren’t big on candy, so I would buy sweets from the store and hide them in my coat for her. When our parents weren’t looking, I would take a piece of candy from my pocket and toss it to her. She would smile, quickly stuffing the candy into her mouth before anyone could notice.

Shaking the memories away, I glare at the doll. It continues to look back at me, and after a few moments I grow more and more uncomfortable. So I slowly back away, going down the other end of the hall. 

I don’t last very long in the next hall, however… Because there are letter magnets stuck to the wall, creating more messages for me. “Come, come, come, come…” Wow, it sure didn’t take very long for me to get disturbed again. But I continue on, and at the end of the hall is a blue door. In front of the door, there’s a table with a vase on it. In the vase, a blue rose.

After a moment’s hesitation, I take the flower, looking it over in my hand. It’s very full, maybe having ten petals. I carefully place it in the pocket of my coat and try to move the table away from the door. It slides away easily, and I head through the doorway. And look at that, more disturbing images to haunt my mind for the rest of my life.

There’s a huge painting of a woman at the front of the room. But it looks so real… her hair even seems to hang past the frame. There’s a message written under her, but I’m honestly too afraid to read it. A blue key lies on the floor a few feet in front of her, and I am brave enough to pick up that.

As soon as the key enters my hand, I hear movement behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the painted woman’s eyes and mouth have opened. So out of instinct, I run out of the room and shut the door behind me, breathing heavily. A message has appeared on the wall next to the door, right in front of where I had moved the table and vase.

“You and the rose are connected. Know the weight of your own life.”

“Embodiment of Spirit.” That’s what the message reminds me of. The sculpture in the art gallery had mentioned something that made me think of a rose being connected to someone’s lifeline. Does that mean…? I open my coat a little, looking down at the blue rose now in my possession. Is this rose my lifeline? 

This warning isn’t the only message on the wall, apparently. As I begin to walk back down the hall, I notice the magnets have changed. Not only are the letters different, but also the tone of the message.

“Come, come, come,” has turned into “Thief, thief, thief, thief, thief.”

Me? A thief? I’ve never stolen anything in my life! Well, unless the blue rose and blue key count, of course. In which case, yes, I’m a thief. “I’m sorry!” I announce to anyone who may be listening. “I’ll give them back!” The only response I receive is the word “Thief” appearing on the floor in front of me. I carefully step over it, continuing down the hallway, hoping and praying that someone is around to help me. 

But nobody is near. I make it to the other end of the hall without running into anyone or anything. Even the creepy rag doll is gone. Defeated, I try shaking the doorknob of the locked door, hoping it will open. But then I remember the blue key in my hand, and much to my excitement, it unlocks the door. 

The door leads me to a place that looks much like a garden. The floor and walls seem to be covered in grass, and there’s even paintings hung of various insects. The first thing I see, however, is a large block of grass in front of me with a message on it: “Beware the edges.”

“‘Beware the edges’?” I ask aloud, walking around it and close to the grassy walls of the hall behind it. “What is that supposed to—Ow! Hey!”

A thin, black arm had reached out from inside the wall and grabbed me, and wow, did it hurt. As I rub my now-injured arm, I notice a blue rose petal on the floor by my feet. A petal fell from the rose in my pocket. I remember the warning, “You and the rose are connected.” Does this mean whenever I get hurt, a petal falls off of the rose? Oh, no, what happens when all the petals fall off…?

Nevertheless, I make sure to “beware the edges” as I continue down the hall, and numerous arms reach out to grab me. But since I’m in the middle of the walkway, they can’t reach or hurt me. Thank goodness. 

At the end of the hall, there’s a green door. But naturally, it’s locked. Of course, right? But there is something I can take with me: a painting of an ant on the wall. I grab it—knowing I’ll have some use for it later, most likely—and run past the hands to the other grassy hallway, where the other paintings were. There’s another door, and in this new room there is a giant hole across the floor. On the other side of the hole is another room. 

I raise an eyebrow at the ant painting in my hand and lay it down across the hole—it fits perfectly. Then I quickly run across, scared that my weight will break it. But the painting itself doesn’t break, not quite… Instead, after I pass over it, the ant itself becomes crushed. I stare at it for the longest time, wondering what has just happened, before leaving the room.

The outdoor hallway is another large room of grass with a green key lying on the floor. I have a feeling the green key unlocks the door where the ant painting had been. But, oh look. What’s right behind the key? One of the headless statues.

I remember the statue from the art gallery. I know that it moves. So I ever-so-carefully pick up the key. But my speed doesn’t matter; as soon as I’m close enough, the statue starts moving toward me. 

I know the only place I can go is back in the other room, so I head there, running across the painting again. This time I don’t watch about my weight, and the painting breaks. So when the statue tries to run after me, it can’t cross and instead just paces around on the other side of the hole. I try to hold back any laughter caused by my sick sense of humor.

Bidding the statue a rude goodbye with a crude hand gesture, I speed back through what I call the “Edge Maze” and unlock the green door with my new key. The room it leads me to is a bit… strange. It looks like a giant owl. Maybe a giant cat? Some kind of giant animal, I’m not sure.

On the other side of the room, there’s a fish-shaped hole in the wall. Great, more puzzles. I love puzzles, especially “milk puzzles,” but this many of them is just too much. Just like before, there are two halls I can go down; one on my left and one on my right. I decide to go right first this time.

It brings me to a large room filled with statues. Full-body statues, headless statues, statues that are just heads… I’m already not enjoying the company of Guertena’s statues, and this room is not at all appealing to me. After a few moments of wondering what the heck I’m supposed to do, the lights flicker. Oh, great. I walk around the room quickly, hoping to see anything that can help me. Eventually, one of the statue heads begins to move. I don’t feel too threatened because it actually moves away from me before falling down and busting open, leaving shards of marble and a wooden fish tail among the debris.

Then it clicks. The fish hole! I’m supposed to put together a key of a fish, and then maybe if I place it in the wall something good will happen. So I snatch up the tail and go into the other hall before anything else starts to move.

The next room is filled with a bunch of window panes on different walls. One wall has a stick-figure man with a message written under him: Play hide and seek? 

“Actually, I’m not too big on that game—“ I start, but the man disappears and I know I have to find him before something bad happens to me. 

There are now yellow buttons on all the walls, right under the window panes. I run up to one and press the button, but it’s just a painting of the moon. The room grows darker, seemingly turning into nighttime. Well, not that one. I try again and get it right, finding the stick man behind one of the other window panes. A message pops up under him. “Found me, you get prize.”

I’m about to ask what he’s talking about, but I see something wooden appear at the very far end of the room—a wooden fish head. I grab it and combine it with the tail, creating the fish key to fit in the wall. I run back to the owl—cat?—room and put the key in. When I do, the whole room shakes and the animal’s eyes turn to red slits as it meows loudly. Oh, so it was a cat. But that’s a minor detail, I think to myself as another passageway appears. I take a deep breath and step through, wondering what awaits me this time.


	3. Worry

The cat room leads me to another large hall with three ways I can go—left, right, or forward. Going to the left only leads to a dead end, though, so I go forward, finding a note on the floor. I pick it up, read the message, and then place it back on the ground. 

“Just when you’ve forgotten.”

“Just when I’ve forgotten what—Hey!” When I reach the end of the hall, arms reach out from the wall and one grabs me, pulling at my leg. I jump away, watching in horror as another petal falls to the ground. Oh, great.

The hall leads to two other directions, a yellow door on each end. The right half of the hall is filled with rag dolls hanging from the ceiling by their feet, and I go the other way without hesitation. Dolls are not my thing. There’s a message written on the wall next to the yellow door on the left— “The Liars Room.” 

Sounds fun.

The room I enter has six portraits of women, all wearing a different color. Each woman speaks as I walk past it, so I take my time to listen to each one. The woman in green gives me directions, saying the answer is three steps west and one step south of the statue. I nod and go to the woman in brown next to her.

“Stand in front of the statue,” she whispers to me. “Go east four steps, then north two steps. That’s the answer!”

“Thank you,” I reply back, head reeling. Already, the two women are telling me different things. It is called the Liars’ Room, after all. But one of them must be right… Next to her, the woman in yellow points over to her left, insisting, “The one in white speaks the truth!”

I grin at her loyalty and go to speak with the woman in blue, who tells me, “The only truth-speaker wears green!” This hint is obvious; she clearly isn’t telling the truth if she’s saying only the woman in green is being truthful. 

Shaking my head, I listen to the one in white, who had been praised earlier by the woman in yellow. “Stand in front of the statue,” she tells me, pointing to the yellow door in the middle of the wall. “Go east two steps, then south two steps. That’s the answer!”

Finally, I walk to the one in red, who tells me with crossed arms, “I agree with the one in yellow!”

Taking a step back and analyzing the scene before me, I replay each woman’s message in my mind. After a few moments of consideration, I nod at my final answer and walk through the yellow door, thanking the different women as I leave. 

This room is almost empty, with only one white statue in the very middle of the small area. “There’s an odd one out…” he mutters, speaking about the different squares that make up the floor. I take a deep breath and stand directly in front of him, going four steps to the east, and two steps to the north. There’s a loose tile at my feet, so I pull it up, slightly worried.

Thankfully, there’s a number on the back of the tile, a purple four. I sigh with relief. I trusted the woman in brown, and she didn’t disappoint me.

Placing the tile back on the ground, I exit the room and go back to the Liars. Except this time, the room is different. All of the portrait women now have a knife in their possession, dripping with something red. “Liar!” they scream over and over again. Gasping, I back out of the room slowly, stealing a glance at where the woman in brown once was. Except there’s something wrong; her frame is broken, and the painting is dripping with red paint. 

At least, I hope it’s red paint…

With shaky breaths, I go back out into the hallway. I don’t want to go down the hall with the hanging dolls but I know I have to, so I gather up any courage I have and go. As I walk, one of the dolls drops from the ceiling and falls to the floor. I take a moment to make sure it doesn’t start to move, and then I notice a small number on its clothes: a green eighteen.

Purple four… green eighteen… What does this mean?

I walk around the doll to the other yellow door, but it’s locked and asks me for a password. “Green X times pink X plus purple X equals…?” The answer asks for a three-digit number.

Suddenly the numbers make sense. I’m going to need them to solve the equation that unlocks the door. I have the green eighteen and the purple four, but no pink number yet. So I go back down the hall to where I first entered, going to the left. I know it’s a dead end, but there are two pictures hanging on the walls. Maybe there’s a hint on one of them?

One painting keeps wiggling its tongue, occasionally spitting on one spot on the floor. I steer clear of that one and instead look at the completely white painting next to it. Except… looking closer, there’s actually a small number in the center. A pink nine.

I have all the numbers! I run through the hallway again, past the outstretched arms and hanging dolls, and plug the three numbers into the equation.

Green times pink plus purple… Eighteen times nine is one hundred sixty-two, plus four is one hundred sixty-six… Holding my breath, I enter 1-6-6. After a few seconds, there’s a sound and the door unlocks. I start to breathe again and head through the yellow door. 

I enter probably the strangest room yet. It’s a small area filled with tree sculptures growing from the ground, and one tree in the center has a wooden apple on it. There’s nothing else in the room, so clearly the apple must be important. I grab it and head out. 

Once at the beginning of the hall again, I know the only direction to go now is right. So I head that way, pausing to read a message on the wall: “BEWARE OF LIPS.” At first, this message seems entirely ridiculous to me—why should I be afraid of some lips? But as I move farther down, the message becomes clearer. On the wall is a huge mouth—or lips, you could say. “Hungry…” it moans out. “Give food… That food…” After a moment, I realize it’s talking about the wooden apple in my hand. “Give it to me…”

I place the apple in the mouth and it immediately chomps it down. “This tasty…” it praises. “I let you pass now… Go through my mouth…” The mouth suddenly opens wide, much wide enough for me to climb through it. I’ve been to every other room and know there’s no other way out, so I just climb through the giant mouth on the wall. 

The mouth leads me to a hall with pictures of a guillotine. As the hall continues, the guillotine in the picture is slowly raised. I walk forward with caution, before stepping on one panel on the floor and hearing a whining sound. I’m hit with a sudden understanding, darting forward toward stairs leading down before looking back. An actual guillotine blade had fallen right where I had been standing only moments before. 

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I continue down the stairs and walk through the new red hallways until I find a door. I pause, hoping it’s not locked and finding that it isn’t. Relieved, I go through the door and see what puzzles await me next.

I’m brought to a large room with multiple exhibits and paintings, and only one red door on the far wall. I try to get through it, but it’s locked—of course. I groan and look around, not seeing anything that can help me. So far, the keys have always been the same color as the door, so I look for hints near the red paintings and sculptures. There’s one red sculpture, entitled “Ah,” but there’s no key or even any hints as to where the key could be located. So I go over to the only other red piece of art in the room—a painting of a woman wearing red. 

As I approach the painting, something strange happens. I hear a growl, and soon the picture frame is off of the wall, and the Lady in Red is clawing her way around the floor, coming after me. I begin to run, but when I glance back at her I see she’s dropped a red key. Of course, the key I need is going to put me in danger.

I take a moment to close my eyes and control my breathing before I lead her down to the other side of the room, then escaping back to her original spot and snatching the key up. I don’t hesitate; as soon as I grab it, I dart to the red door and unlock it, hiding in the new room and locking the door behind me. 

How many women are gonna try to hurt me?! First the headless statues, then the Liars, and now this! I suppose Guertena wasn’t exactly lucky with the ladies…

Finally looking up, I notice I’m now standing in a miniature library, with two rows of bookshelves on either side of me. And naturally, there’s a door on the other side. I’m not an idiot—well, not that much of one—and I know the door will be locked. So I start looking at the books on the shelves, hoping for some kind of hint. 

Nothing happens until I pick up one book, called “Carrie Careless and the Galette des Rois.” It seems to be a storybook drawn in crayon. Not interested, I put the book back on the shelf—and notice another book jutting out from its place on the shelf. I’m really not in the mood to read any more books, so I push it back into its place, and I hear a clicking sound. Like… a door unlocking!

I excitedly check to see if the door has unlocked and sure enough, it has. I grin and walk through to the new room.


	4. Embodiment of Spirit

Once out of the library, I find myself in the middle of a long hallway. This time, I can either go right or left. The only thing in front of me is a vase of water resting on a table, much like the one where I had found my blue rose. On the wall next to it, is a painting of such a vase. “Eternal Blessing,” it’s titled.

Shaking away my curiosity, I decide to go to the left down the hallway. I find a platform with another table and vase full of water. There are two messages on the wall next to this vase, and I suppose that’s why I’m drawn to it. “You and the rose are connected,” one message reminds me. “Know the weight of your own life.” I remember reading this message before, so I move on to the next one, which reads, “When the rose withers, so too will you wither away.”

I take the rose out of my hand and frown at it, seeing the noticeable loss of petals that has come from my getting hurt so many times. Thinking about my “lifeline” theory, I carefully place the rose in the vase and watch as the rose returns to full health, the missing petals springing back into place. As this happens, I suddenly feel alert and refreshed, and my injured arm and leg no longer hurt. 

So now I know what to do if my rose starts losing petals: I just have to find the nearest vase!

Fully satisfied with my discovery, I move farther into the room and see another red door, but shocker there, it’s locked. I walk past the window on the wall and see another platform at the far end of the room. There’s a small key on the floor! But there’s words on the wall above it—“The Lady in Blue”—but nothing to go with it. And that’s when I begin to feel sick.

I remember the Lady in Red from earlier and how she had jumped off the wall to get me. And now, her blue friend is completely missing! I start to exit the room, key in hand, until I hear a crash and find the Lady in Blue. She had jumped out of the window, escaping from the room with the locked red door!

The Lady in Blue is much faster than the Lady in Red and she gets me almost immediately, grabbing my ankle and biting down on it. She does this a couple of times as I try to escape her grasp, and I watch as numerous petals fall from my pocket. Eventually I gather enough strength to kick her off of me and limp away, running back to the main hallway and going to the right.

Gripping tightly to the small key in my hand, I look over my shoulder to see if she’s still behind me. But apparently the Lady in Blue has given up, because she is nowhere to be seen. I walk around the safe (safer?) hallway, moving about in circles, before my weakness finally hits me and I pass out, landing face-first on the floor.

 

“Hello? Excuse me, hello?”

I can hear someone call out to me, but I can’t bring myself to get up or open my eyes just yet. “It… hurts…” is all I can force out. And it’s true; the pain I’m experiencing is so much worse than anything I’ve felt yet. Yes. I’m in pain. Whoever’s around me starts to massage my shoulders, but that just makes it all the worse. “St…sto…” I try to beg this person to stop, but I hack and cough and can’t finish my plea. I’m in a lot of pain.

They understand me, though, and take their hands off of me. I still don’t have enough energy to look up and see who it is, but I can hear soft and quick footsteps hurry away in the opposite direction. I stay put on the ground, moaning and whimpering at the pain, which seems to get stronger with every passing second. Suddenly a wave of realization washes over me, and I feel my pocket with a shaking hand. My rose is gone.

I sigh, completely defeated, noticing the small key is gone too. My only faith lies in the person with the small voice, and I hope with all my heart that they are a friend and not a foe. 

As I think about this, my energy suddenly returns and all the pain vanishes. “…Mmm…” I groan once more as I push myself off the floor, asking, “…What’s this? The pain’s gone… ah?” I finally see the person who may have helped me—but they are standing so close, so I’m frightened at first. “Eek!”

Please, do not make fun of my frightened cries. I’m not the manliest guy around. 

It takes me a moment before I recognize the girl, and at first I jump away from her, afraid she is actually an enemy. “Wh…What is it NOW?!” I scream. “T-There’s nothing left for you to take, I tell you!” But then I remember her, and I move closer. “W…Wait… Dear me, could you be… someone from the gallery…?!” 

Yes, it’s her: the small young girl from much earlier. At least I think it’s her; same white button-down shirt, same red skirt, same long brown hair. She even nods at my question, answering that she has indeed come from the gallery. “So you are! Oh, thank heavens! There’s someone here besides me!” I’m so relieved, holding my hand against my heart and sighing happily.

“Did you get here the same way as me?” she asks. 

I shrug, not knowing how she got here in the first place, so I lean against the wall behind us and listen as she explains her story to me. Turns out she, like me, experienced the blackout in the gallery. And nobody had been around her, either. 

Obviously, all of this happened after I experienced it myself, otherwise she would have gotten here sooner. But she doesn’t remember much. “So I see… You don’t have any clue how things got to this point, either,” I whisper, looking down at my feet. “It would seem we wound up in very similar situations, I have to say… Even down to these roses,” I point out, acknowledging her red rose that she showed me during her speech. “Wounds appear on me when my rose loses its petals…” I close my eyes for a moment, realizing how close I had gotten to getting seriously injured. “I thought I was a goner there… Thank you for getting it back.”

“It was nothing,” the small girl insists, tucking her rose into her shirt pocket and looking to me for further instructions.

“…Now, first things first… We’d better find a way out.” I state the obvious, careful that the words I choose won’t frighten her any further. “I think I’ll go mad if I stay in this dreadful place for too long…” My gears are turning, trying to figure out what we should do next, before a ridiculous realization dawns on me. “Ah, I still haven’t asked your name. My, that was rude of me! Well, my name’s Garry.” I turn to look at her, hoping I haven’t made her uncomfortable or intimidated. “And you are?”

The girl hesitates, probably considering whether or not she should share her name with a complete stranger. After the things that have happened down here, I can’t say I blame her. “My name is Ib.”

“Ib… Ib, you say.” I try the name out for size, deciding it works for her. I walk a few steps away, questioning if I should stay with her and help her, or if she could do better on her own. But as I move away, I can immediately see the fear of isolation in her eyes. She reminds me of Gina. And I wouldn’t leave Gina alone. “I can’t very well leave a girl to wander into danger, no, no… So I’ll go with you! Okay?”

The fear leaves her eyes, replaced with a little twinkle that pains my heart. She is so much like Gina… I ignore my thoughts and gesture to her. “Now, let’s go, Ib!” 

Clearly, Ib has already gone to the left of the hallway, since she was able to get my rose back from the Lady in Blue. So I decide to lead her right—but I fall back when a painting with a wiggling tongue spits on the floor right in front of where I would have been walking. I let out a startled shriek, but quickly gather my wits and rise to my feet. 

Behind me, Ib starts giggling, covering her mouth with her hand. “I… I was just a bit startled!” I stutter, trying to recover. “R-Really, that’s all it was! Anywayyy,” I continue as Ib stops laughing. “Let’s keep going, and watch out for such bizarre things as that!”

The next room has a red door, guarded by a blue headless statue. We move forward hesitantly, but it doesn’t move, so I look at it curiously. “What a lousy place for this thing… Step back a tad, would you, Ib?” 

She takes a few steps back, so I take a deep breath and move the statue. “And… heave!” It’s actually a lot heavier than it seems. But I do move it, and that’s all that matters! “Ta-dah!” I’m a bit out of breath, but it’s not like I’m going to let Ib know that. “Now we can proceed. All right, let’s go!”

The following room is so dark, so eerie. Ib immediately grabs my hand, clearly afraid of the dark room. There are two paintings on either side of a narrow hallway: “Grieving Bride” to the left and “Grieving Groom” to the right. A few feet in front of each is a hand sculpture: “Grieving Bride’s Left Hand” and “Grieving Groom’s Right Hand.” I hurriedly lead Ib out of the room and down the narrow hall ahead of us.

Once out of the hallway, we’re lead to another large room with various directions we can go. There are two doors, as well, and numerous halls. I let Ib decide, and she goes to the far left hallway, which seems harmless enough. But once we get close enough, eyes spring up from the floor. It’s disgusting to say the least, and I can’t hide my discomfort. I let out a cry, asking, “What is THAT?! Gross is what! Why are there EYES on the FLOOR…?!”

Ib shrugs, carefully weaving her way through the maze of eyes, and I follow her as she stares at one red eye on the ground. “D… Does this lone eye have a congestion problem?” I ask, trying to make a joke but knowing this eye will be a part of some puzzle.

Ib laughs, and she pulls on my coat to lead me out of this hallway, into the next one. The new hall really is harmless, showing nothing except for a few small paintings on the wall. Paintings of a girl, some ice, a large snake, normal compared to what we’ve previously witnessed. However, Ib does take a moment to look closer at the snake painting.

Finding nothing of use, Ib leads me through one of the doors. It leads us to a room filled with easels and stools. At the front of the room, there is a bottle of clear liquid. I can’t tell what it is from far away, but I know we’ll most likely need it. I attempt to push a few easels out of the way, but they seem to be drilled into the floor. The stools, however, can be moved. So Ib helps me move certain stools, creating a pathway for us to get to the bottle of liquid.

When we reach it, Ib holds the bottle up so we can both examine it. It’s a bottle of eyedrops. We immediately figure it out, running back to the red eye on the floor. The congested eye is looking our way. Taking the bottle from Ib, I apply the eyedrops to the eye, and the congestion is cured. 

A moment later the eye disappears, reappearing in a new spot behind us. The eye we gave the eyedrops to is staring intently at the wall. Upon further inspection, we notice that the wall is a slightly different color, and it leads us to a secret passage. Ib takes my hand again and pulls me through, leading me to a small, dark room with something lying on the ground in front of us. I watch as Ib runs forward to retrieve it, then brings it back to show me. It’s a red glass ball. 

She looks up at me, eyes wide, and mutters, “The snake.” Before I can comprehend her words, she runs back out into the main hallway where the paintings are hung, and I follow close behind. She walks straight up to the snake painting and points at it. As I get closer, I realize what she had meant: There’s a hole in the eye. She hesitates, but then puts in the red glass ball. 

The snake painting itself does nothing, but the painting on the wall next to it falls. We slowly move toward it, worried that something bad could happen. I motion for Ib to stay a little ways away and let me inspect it myself. Nothing happens at all; instead I just find that there’s writing on the back of the frame: “Behind the big tree…”

I relay the message back to Ib and she frowns. “What big tree? I haven’t seen one yet.”

“It must be in another room,” I guess, motioning down the hall. Ib nods, ready to follow me, so we go into the next room. And as soon as we enter it, I decide this has got to be my least favorite room so far. 

It’s an indoor maze, with a sign on the war entitling it “Labyrinth.” I’m a bit taller than the maze walls, so before we start moving I stand on my tip-toes and look around. There are three—if I am counting them all—red headless statues. “Oh, no way,” I groan. “I’m not going through this!”

Sensing my dread, Ib suddenly jumps onto my back so she can see as well. “But look over there!” she whispers in my ear. She’s pointing to the far right corner of the room, where there is an easel with a message written on it. She jumps off my back and looks up at me, taking my hand and patting it as if to say, “We can do it.” 

I take a deep breath and signal a countdown with my fingers, starting from three. When I hold up one finger, Ib and I race through the maze, sticking together and trying to stay away from the statues. We actually make it to the easel, and Ib reads the message, since I’m more out of breath than she is. “‘Check directly south from the red paint,’” she reports.

“Red paint, red paint…” On our way to the corner, there had been a few splashes of red paint on the floor here and there. There’s some red paint close to where we are, but I can see the statues heading our way, so I grab Ib and we run toward a different direction.

On the far left of the room, there’s a message on the wall again. “Do you like mazes?” it mocks. I frown, clenching my fists, as Ib wanders away a couple of feet. “H-Hey, Ib! Stay by me! I don’t want you to get hurt—”

“But Garry, look!” she insists, waving me over. “Red paint!” She’s right; there’s a splash of red paint on the floor close to the wall’s message. Then I remember the words written on the easel. 

“Ib, start checking south from this spot,” I quickly remind her, glancing to make sure that the statues aren’t close—luckily, they’re still a good distance away. We start carefully—but quickly—looking at the walls south from the paint, hoping with all of our hearts that this is where we have to be. Finally, I find a switch on the wall. I press it, and soon after there is a sound outside. Ib’s head snaps in my direction, and we both dart for the exit. 

There’s nothing outside, though. We take a moment to catch our breath again, and after a few moments I motion to the final room. “Since there was no tree in that room,” I suggest, “maybe it’s in there.”

Ib nods, still struggling for air, but she follows me into the new room. The lights are flickering, and the entire room is filled with sculptures. But thankfully, there’s a tree sculpture that vaguely resembles a person, entitled “Feeling.” “You gotta be pretty clever to come up with this stuff…” I mutter. 

But I don’t think Ib is listening. She’s too busy looking inside the tree, and as I join her I see that something gleams amid the leaves… and Ib pulls out a silver ring.

“Isn’t this… a wedding ring?” I gasp. “Now what would this be doing here?”

“The Grieving Bride!” Ib answers, pulling me out of the room just as the lights shut off. It suddenly begins to make sense, and I grin at Ib’s intelligence. Once back in the first room, Ib takes the silver ring and puts it on the Grieving Bride’s Left Hand—ring finger, of course. 

We hear a giggle, and the Grieving Bride in the painting throws her bouquet in the air as all the titles around us change from “Grieving” to “Blessed.” There’s a beautiful bouquet that appears on the ground—the bride’s, I suppose—and Ib takes it, knowing well by now that anything given to us can be deemed useful. Before we walk out the room, I pause to congratulate the now-happy couple. 

“What now?” Ib asks me, glancing at the bouquet in her hands.

“I’m not sure,” I reply honestly. I look around the room, seeing a small hallway by the stool room that we had completely missed earlier. “Come on,” I tell Ib.

At the end of the hall, there’s a messily-painted blue face. It has a crazed expression, and grins at me and Ib as we approach. “Ehehehe, hehehehehehe… Flowers… flowers’re nice…” it slurs. “Give me that there flower and I’ll let you through… ehehe…” It seems to look right at Ib as it laughs. “Your flower, pretty please?”

Without hesitation, Ib hands over the bouquet. The painting chuckles when Ib holds the bouquet out. “Ehehehe, thanks… It smells niiice… eheheh. Well, chow time!” As the painting eats the bouquet, its face briefly changes from blue to red. But that only lasts a minute, changing back as the painting finishes its meal. “Ahhh, that was good… eheheh. Thank you, thanks so much… As promised, you can go through.”

Suddenly the face painting disappears, leaving only an empty frame that looks like a passageway. “Just take this door in…” The painting’s voice instructs. “Well, see ya… eheheheh!”

Ib puts one foot through the door, looking back at me when I hesitate. “Are you coming?”

I nod. “Yes, Ib. I’m right behind you.” And I will be. I’ll be right behind her, all the way, until we can get out of this horrible place. She’s just a child, scared and lonely, and she needs someone to protect her. And I won’t allow anything to happen to her. I swear, I won’t let Ib get hurt.


End file.
